In the Presence of Evil
by DemonDragon666
Summary: Malphas, a sworn enemy of Dean has returned from Hell with an army of demons, ready for a war. Learning this, Dean seeks the help from Hell itself, Johnny Blaze, the Ghost Rider. As the three team up, the battle of the century begins. Please review!
1. In the Presence of Evil

Chapter 1

The Man on Fire

The mixed music of the midnight bar blared into the empty streets of the countryside. It was a colourful place. Lights flashing on the dance floor; people screaming, drinking, dancing, and having a good time; friendly bartenders monitoring their customers; and vehicles with license plates from all over the country parked outside the door; one of them being a black 1967 Chevy Impala.

A hand grabbed a glass of liquor that slid across the counter top to where the person sat. He picked up the small hooter glass and knocked back the liquid as if it was just water. He took a breath and slapped the counter while putting down the glass.

"I'll have another there, sweetheart."

The lady barmaid smiled and slid down another small glass of clear liquid to the man while cleaning out other taller glasses with a dirty rag. Again he caught it and threw it down his throat. A tall man that was obviously not interested in drinking walked up behind the man and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Dean, lay off the drinks, will you? You're on water for the rest of the night", he said.

The man drinking, known as Dean was appalled. He swallowed the last of whatever substance was in his glass and gave his friend a serious look.

"Water? You can't cut me off! This right here is heaven", he stated, motioning to his glass as he placed it on the counter.

He slapped the counter and another glass came sliding in his direction. He picked it up and offered it to the other man.

"Here. Try some heaven."

The man sat down next to his drunken partner.

"No thanks."

Dean put down the glass as it started shaking in his grip. He sighed.

"Sam, come on, man. You have got to loosen up and have a little fun once in a while", he commented, slurring his words together a little as the drinks began to take effect on him.

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean continued.

"Tonight is a no strings attached night. Now, you don't have to get laid tonight, though I do recommend it, but you have to at least drink, or dance, or… or get that barmaid's number for me over there. Yeah."

He gave the other barmaid a couple stools over a bad boy smile and a 'hey baby' nod that he was famous for.

"Dean, one of us has to stay sober for us to get back to the motel in one piece, and since you are clearly out of it, I guess I will be the one to drive us back."

Dean picked up the glass and put it to his lips.

"Wus."

He sipped the alcohol, but then realized it was too strong for him to handle slowly and tipped the glass higher to rush it down his throat.

"Damn, that's good stuff!"

"You disgust me", Sam responded.

He opened a book and began to read from it, somehow avoiding the loud noises of the bar. Dean leaned over his shoulder, horrified.

"I disgust you? What the hell are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm reading."

"Reading what?"

Dean stretched out an arm in attempt to snatch the book from him. Sam pulled it away before he could get his hands on it. Dean sat back upright with a curious look on his face.

"Oh, I see. You don't want me to know what sissy book you're reading so that I can't make fun of you. Huh. I didn't know my opinion meant so much to you", he stated smugly.

"It doesn't. I'm reading _Angels and Demons_, just so you know", Sam said in defense.

"Oh that's appropriate", Dean commented with a roll of his eyeballs. "And how many times have you read that?"

"Three."

"Nerd", Dean mocked under his breath.

"You just don't appreciate the value of…"

"Hold that thought."

Dean raised a hand at Sam; his eyes focused on something straight ahead of him.

"Time to work some Winchester magic."

Dean adjusted his collar and stood up confidently. His eyes were fixed on a girl on the other side of the bar. She was facing another woman that was turned in their direction, making Dean only able to see the woman he wanted from behind, but for him, this was enough. She wore a tight red silk skirt that showed off her backside nicely. She had fishnet nylons that poked through her also red high heels. Her halter top, like the rest of here outfit was red. Her blonde wavy locks billowed over her broad shoulders. She twizzled a curl around her finger as she socialized with the other woman. This revealed her long scarlet nails that were obviously false, but Dean didn't seem to care.

From behind she looked like a vision to Dean, definitely someone of his style. Sam caught Dean's stare and examined the woman, paying attention to great detail that Dean hadn't. He grew hesitant.

"Uh, Dean, I don't think you should…"

It was too late. Dean had already tapped the girl on the shoulder.

"Hey, pretty lady. Why don't we get some shots in here and have ourselves a good time, huh?"

He leaned against the side of the bar counter, waiting for her to turn around and see her beautiful face. She turned at the sound of his masculine voice. Unfortunately the face he was expecting was not what he saw.

The girl had very thick, almost too perfect make-up smeared on her face, the beginning of stubble on her jaw line as well as her upper lip, and tufts of brown hair flipping out from underneath her blonde curls. Dean stepped back, stumbling over his own feet from shock and disgust. He gripped the counter fiercely, trying not to fall to the floor. She gave him an awkward glare while she gave him a look over. Dean's eyes bulged from their sockets as he noticed a lump in her throat that he recognized to be an Adam's apple. This was a sure sign to Dean that this woman was definitely not a woman.

"Sorry, doll. You're cute, but you're not my type."

Dean couldn't believe her comment. He couldn't believe those words were being uttered by someone like _her_ to someone like him. The two women got up and walked onto the dance floor. Dean continued to stare blankly into space. Sam finally came over to relieve him from embarrassment, laughing hysterically. Dean brought himself to his feet and blinked out of thought.

"Man, I don't know what's funnier: the fact that you couldn't tell that that man was a man, or the fact that you just got turned down by a transvestite."

Dean gave his brother a deathly stare. They began walking for the door, now tired of sitting in the crowded bar.

"That was totally the most disturbing thing I've ever experienced", Dean commented.

Sam opened the door for his older brother.

"Well could you imagine if she had did have an interest in you?"

Dean cringed.

"You're sick."

Sam laughed, finding Dean's bitter attitude somewhat amusing.

"Yeah, well, right back at you."

They walked to their car, the dusty black Impala that waited all alone at the far end of the parking lot. Dean opened the car door to get in, but stopped suddenly with a concentrated expression on his face.

"What? Dean, what is it?"

"Shh!"

There was silence.

"Do you hear that?"

Sam listened closely trying to pick up the sound Dean had.

"What?"

"It's a – a chopper", Dean stated oddly, surprised himself at what he had said.

Sam could now hear the noise as well.

"A chopper? What's so weird about that?"

"Nothing. It's just…"

Dean peered out down the long empty road.

"It's just, there isn't a bike in sight. I mean other than the one's that are parked here. How could it be so loud?"

The answer to Dean's question came sooner than he had hoped. In the distance, down the dusty old road came a hot red light. It picked up speed and came closer and closer by the second. The hum of the motorcycle got louder until the vibration was strong enough to burst someone's eardrum. The light slowly changed to a bright orange glow. Not only that, but the light seemed to be moving in different shapes and forms, like it had a mind of its own, still remaining close to its center. Because of this the image of what it really was, was fuzzy. They were just able to make out the fact that it was a motorcycle, but it was on fire and it carried on its back a dark rider.

At first they thought they had been seeing things, but then the vehicle came to a halt. It was going so fast that it had left a trail of red flames behind, sticking to the black tar and blew out as the wind flushed by it.

Its rider stepped off the bike. The engine was still running. They could hear its rumbling vibration from where they stood. The brothers stared in silence and wonder at this mysterious person. The music inside the building had stopped. They too had heard the vehicle's power as it zoomed down the highway. The rider wore all black. Dark jeans, jet-black biker boots with a thick heel, and a motorcyclist's favourite item, a leather jacket.

His jacket was rugged and gave him an edgy, rogue look. It had three large pointed spikes on each of his broad shoulders, and a few studs on the cuffs of his sleeves. It had a wide metallic zipper that had been done up all the way to his thin neck. Though, aside from the outfit, one thing stood out about this man that left the spectators puzzled, even Sam and Dean.

His face and hands that should have been showing skin revealed thick white bone instead. His head was literally a skull, and even more intriguing, scorching flames blazed around his cranium and fists. The skeleton man grunted at his surroundings and stiffly marched over to the bar. The door opened before he arrived at it and a shorter man in grungy track pants and a hooded sweater lazily stumbled out with his head down, not noticing anything was happening around him. The rider of the flaming motorcycle growled at the man and clenched his bony fingers.

The teenage punk looked up with glazed eyes. He jumped back, half falling off his feet. He grabbed the back wall to help keep him standing as he tried to escape the glare of the monstrous man. He breathed heavily while screaming,

"No! Please, don't! Don't hurt me! Please! Please!"

The rider stalked toward the young man with an angry look on his face, though it's hard for a skeleton to have any other expression. The kid crouched down in the corner of the building, hiding himself behind a patio table. Sweat poured from his brow as the skeleton rider shoved the table aside and lifted him off his feet by his sweater.

"Look into my eyes", it hissed.

The young man had no choice but to stare into the dark crevices of the flaming skull. As he did so he began to shriek. He groaned and screamed in agony. Whatever he was seeing in the rider's eyes was causing him pain. Within seconds the rider dropped the man, his lively and frightened eyes now blackened and dead. The rider walked back to his chopper without a word. Dean stepped away from the car toward the man.

"Hey! What'd you do to that poor guy?"

The rider gave him a wicked look.

"Penance stare. Look it up."

With those last words the man straddled his bike. The flames gained a sudden surge of power and height when he sat on it. He put a bit of pressure on the gas pedal of the bike and turned the handles to rev up the engine. It raced out of the scene leaving nothing behind but a trail of sparks and a dead body.


	2. The legend of the Ghost Rider

Chapter 2

The Legend of the Ghost Rider

"Who the hell is this guy? Or what the hell is he? He's not a spirit; that much is for sure. Spirits hang on to objects or places, not just riding around killing random people on open road."

"Dean, chill out, alright? I'm as freaked out about this as you are."

The two Winchesters were sat in their motel room in midday debating about the creature they had seen the night before. Dean was pacing the length of the room while Sam sat on the bed with his silver laptop rested on his knee.

"Yeah, but, come on, man. His head was on fire! Not to mention his fists and his bike, and, dude, he looked at a guy and killed him! It's like Bloody Mary all over again. Except this time with a lot less blood, a few less mirrors, and a lot more fire", Dean stated sarcastically.

"Yeah, Dean. I get it. Anyway, I looked up that penance stare like he told us to and I found some interesting results."

Dean gazed out the window in the other direction form Sam.

"Oh? What are they?"

Sam sighed.

"Well… it took a while to find penance in the right context, but I found it in an urban legend."

Dean was suddenly interested. He froze and turned to face his intelligent brother.

"What urban legend?"

"Dean… we're dealing with the Ghost Rider."

Dean laughed under his breath.

"You're kidding? The Ghost Rider? Dude. Come on. There's no such thing. There's no bounty hunter from Hell, all right? It's just a story."

"Well how else do you explain it, Dean? I mean, they never said what the rider looks like. It could very well be a skeleton on fire. We don't know."

Dean shook his head while running a hand through his short messy hair.

"Yeah, whatever. Just read what that stare thing was."

Sam placed a finger on the computer's touch pad and scrolled down the web page, searching for where to begin.

"Uh… okay. Well, this penance stare is the Ghost Rider's most famous and important weapon. They use it to basically sear your soul. They only use it on those who are truly evil; those who don't even deserve to be sent to Hell."

"Huh. That's nice of him."

Sam ignored Dean's feeble attempt to lighten up the moment with humour and continued explaining.

"He shows them images of the pain they've caused throughout their entire life all at once. Then they themselves experience those people's pain. I guess it becomes too overwhelming and they die."

Sam didn't have the slightest tone of sympathy in his voice, which made Dean worry since he was the sympathetic one.

"You seem uncomfortably comfortable with this."

Sam gave Dean a pair of dagger eyes back.

"Sorry", he responded agitatedly.

Dean rolled his eyes, brushing off Sam's remark.

"So… what else do you know about this Ghost Rider, assuming that's what this thing is?"

"Well, as you know, the Ghost Rider changes every few years. A person makes a deal with the Devil and sells their soul for something they desire most. The Devil tells them what to hunt if something big has escaped, or they just ride around on whatever vehicle they own, killing things at night. Of course they are normal during the day and at night they turn, but only in the presence of evil. Assuming the legend is right, that guy at the bar last night must have done some seriously bad things."

Dean laughed.

"Ghost Rider, escaping from Hell, deals with the Devil… man, this stuff is priceless. I can't believe we're even having this conversation."

Sam stared wide-eyed at his brother.

"Dean, we've dealt with people that have made deals with demons, which is basically like the Devil, we've hunted many things that have escaped from Hell, and we saw the Ghost Rider last night. How can you still be skeptical?"

"Because, Sam. I don't believe a human can become a demon-like creature, or work for Hell, or any of that crap. Besides, even if he was on Hell's side, wouldn't he be evil himself, not just gathering up demons? Wouldn't he be helping them kill and destroy? I mean the Ghost Rider's taking our job. He's killing supernatural beings without exorcising them or anything. It makes our job look a little too easy, and God knows it's not. There's no way the Devil, if there is one, can give all that power to a human. It just seems a little far-fetched. Even for us."

Sam shook his head, refusing to argue and turned his gaze back to the computer screen.

"Fine. Believe what you want to. The Ghost Rider isn't our biggest issue anyway."

"Then what is?"

"A demon… I think."

Dean suddenly became furious.

"What! You found a trace of a demon around and you failed to mention it to me? Sam, aren't you worried about this at all?"

"Not really", Sam stated calmly.

"Not really? Why not?"

"Because the Ghost Rider will get it."

Dean threw his arms up in the air, completely sick of Sam's new liking toward this creature.

"What is with you and this Ghost Rider? It's as if this thing was your hero or something! What is wrong with you", Dean bellowed.

"Dean, calm down. I just think that since it's in the area, we should save ourselves the work and leave it to the rider."

Dean put a palm to his face and ran it down his jaw to calm himself.

"You know what? I can't take this anymore. If you don't want to come, I'm going after this thing myself."

He grabbed his leather jacket off the head of his chair and scooped his ring of keys off the counter of the dressing table.

"Dean, you're not going after a demon by yourself."

"I've done it before, I can do it again", he snapped.

"Dean…"

"Look. You don't want to come. I don't see any other option here. I don't have as much faith in this Ghost Rider as you do, seeing as I'm the only one that believes he could be a threat to us being the Devil's apprentice. So I'm going, whether you like it or not. Either you come with me or you don't."

Sam said nothing. He glared angrily at Dean, not wanting him to be stubborn yet again and leave him on his own. Dean waited for an answer. None came.

"Fine. Goodbye, Sam."

Dean walked out the door and slammed it shut behind him.

"Dean", Sam called after him, but it was too late.

Dean had already blocked out Sam and exited the building with a terrible attitude, which was bad news for whatever he was going to hunt. He climbed into the Impala and smoothly drove out of the parking lot with not a clue where he was going.


	3. Stuck in Traffic

**Stuck In Traffic**

It was now dark. The traffic was thick and impatient. Dean sat in the front seat of the Impala that was parked along the curb of the city streets, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel while thinking.

"_Man, why am I here? I don't even know if this is the right place. I don't know what I'm looking for either. All I know is there's some son of a bitch demon loose, but who it's possessing, I don't have a clue. It might not be possessing anyone. Ah, that's just great. And look at this traffic! How the hell am I ever going to get out of here?"_

He scrolled down his window and stuck his head out to see farther down the long line of traffic. Horns honked near the center of the line up. He also got a brief glance of flashing lights near the intersection. No cars were moving.

"What the hell's holding up all these cars?"

Dean opened his car door and stepped out onto the tar road. He scanned the area where he had seen the lights. He could now see the police cars and hear their faint sirens ringing into the night. They were the one's apparently blocking everybody's path. Maybe there was an accident. People were getting frustrated and annoyed. They climbed out of their vehicles and gathered around the police cars to see what the commotion was. Dean's curiosity was getting the better of him too. Perhaps the accident had something to do with the demon.

Feeling hopeful, he shut the metal-framed door and followed the flow of the crowd to the center of the traffic. There was no accident. That much was for sure. There were no crashed or damaged cars, and no dead or injured bodies. There was a single man fighting off the officers that pursued him as they attempted to cuff him and shove him into the back seat of one of the police cars.

Dean pushed his way through the crowd of spectators to get into the action. An officer with his arms out was trying to hold back the people so they didn't get in the way of the government officials. Dean approached the man with confidence.

"Sorry, sir. You have to stay back."

Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out an officer's badge with a small picture of himself and a false name attached to it.

"Private investigator. What's going on here?"

The officer took a close look at the badge and nodded, letting Dean pass. Another officer in a fancier uniform, clearly the head of the team came forward to talk to him.

"You're the private investigator we sent for?"

"Yes, sir", Dean agreed.

"Thank god you're here. We've been waiting for you to help us with this guy. He's really giving us a hard time."

"Sorry. I was caught in traffic", he went along with his act. "So what's going on here?"

"Johnny Blaze. We caught him red handed", the officer explained as they walked over to a clear space away from prying ears.

"What are the charges", Dean questioned, sounding professional.

"Man slaughter, at least five men in the past week. There have been more before that, but we can't find evidence to pin him to their deaths. We just got here to find him after another one. He keeps saying it's his job and that they were evil. And the funny thing is we checked their files for a criminal record, and all of his victims had killed more than one person each in their past."

Dean suddenly got interested in the matter.

"Is that it?"

"No. It gets weirder."

Dean laughed.

"Weird I can handle."

The man kept a straight face.

"You sure about that? 'Cause this guy is hard core."

Dean tilted his head to the side.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean this Johnny character was found on fire with his head and hands looking like bones."

Dean's smile dropped.

"Still think you can handle him?"

Dean nodded, unsure, but very curious.

"Yeah. I'll see what I can do. Do you know how he did it?"

"Who knows? Johnny Blaze has all kinds of money. He can do whatever he wants. He's a world record holder for the longest motorcycle jump in history, 300ft from field goal to field goal. Not only that, six black helicopters, too. He's a motorcycle maniac. Everybody knows Johnny Blaze."

Dean's thoughts bounced around in his mind crazily.

"Well that would explain a lot", Dean muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. Uh, do you think I could talk to him or something? You know, see if I can get anything out of him."

The officer shrugged and shook his head.

"If you think it will help. He just keeps giving smart ass remarks."

Dean looked over his shoulder and watched as the police finally caught Johnny and were helping him into the car. He half smiled.

"Oh I can handle the attitude, if anything."

"Alright then. We'll set you up down at the station. Tail us and we can get started."

"Thanks", Dean concluded as the officer left to his car.

This case now meant something to Dean. It didn't have anything to do with the demon, but it did have something to do with the Ghost Rider, and Dean still had some unanswered questions for him. Maybe if he talked to Johnny he would find out whether the stories were true and what the rider is capable of. He strode back to his car as the police cars cleared the streets for him to pass through. He started the engine and followed them to the place criminals fear.

* * *

_DemonDragon666- So? Good enough for you? If not, don't worry. The next three chapters are a must read. I spent so much time writing them out and I can't wait to post them. They are very action-packed, let me tell you. So please send me your thoughts and opinions, as always through reviews. I luv hearing from you! (I know I've said that so many times, but deal with it) See ya!!!! Luv ya!!!! (Not really. I don't even know you people. Oh well!) _


	4. The Nightmare

**The Nightmare**

Sam sunk down into the softness of the motel mattress. He stared at his cell phone that he held in his palm.

"_Should I call him"_, he thought.

He scrolled down a list of names and phone numbers until he came to Dean's. He was silent, debating with his other self whether or not to disturb Dean's hunt. He wanted to say sorry, to apologize for his stubborn attitude earlier that day. He wanted his brother to know that it didn't matter what his beliefs were or if he didn't trust anyone but himself as long as they stuck together. After all, Dean was all Sam had left.

Sam worried what could become of Dean while on a hunt by himself. He didn't know how he could have found the demon anyway. He didn't tell him anything of its whereabouts or its target of destruction. Dean could be in trouble now and Sam wouldn't be there to help him.

Sam's thumb hovered over the _call_ key, still unsure of his decision. On the other hand, Dean could somehow have the demon and be attempting to exorcise it or sneak up on it and his call could throw off his thoughts or give away his position. His single selfish action could cost Dean his life. This thought made up his mind completely. He swayed his thumb to another button and turned off the phone. It was too risky. And if he really was in trouble, he could always just dial Sam's number.

He tossed the phone gently onto his pillow, letting it land softly onto the thick white cushion. He got up on his feet and paced around the bed, not sure of what to do with himself until Dean got back, which could be in a week at the most. He heaved a sigh of boredom. The room was too quiet for his liking. He could hear and feel the silence surrounding him. The faint ticking of his watch and the dripping of wet liquid from the tap were driving him mad. He was so consumed by unnatural silence that it made him uncomfortable.

His heart began to quicken pace. Sweat began to form on his brow. His breathing sped up and thickened. His great brown puppy dog eyes darted around the place. He had no idea as to way these actions occurred. Suddenly his head pounded and a voice echoed deep in the back of his mind. The voice rang again and again, getting louder each time. The words were still unclear to Sam. All he paid attention to was the throbbing of his temples. The voice shouted in his head. He groaned and closed his eyes to shut out the pain. Fuzzy and partially blurred images danced around in his mind, a sure sign of a premonition. He dropped to his knees and let go of all that was happening around him to embrace the vision.

_A young man with shaggy, short brown hair lifted his head from his work on a metal motorbike. An older man with matted dirty blonde hair leaned over him with a silver skull-headed cane in one hand. He held out an unrolled scroll with different kinds of fancy scribbled writing etched onto it in black ink and a line for a signature. It was a contract. Voices sang over the images of these people as if they had been said as the scene occurred._

_"All you have to do is sign", the older man told the teenager._

_Another voice that didn't seem to match either of the men whispered in a gravely southern accent,_

"Any man who sells his soul for love has the power to change the world."

_The boy lifted a hand to the contract in attempt to grab the scroll form the man. His finger caught on the rough edge of the scroll's handle and_ _a single drop of deep red blood splattered onto the line meant for sealing the deal. _

_Almost instantly the scene changed and in this one the same teenage boy stood under an old oak tree in the center of lush fields on a steep hill with a girl of his age. Her auburn hair was pinned up at the top with the back flowing over her shoulder. She smiled at the boy with such joy and love in her eyes. The voice of the old man with the contract said over the image,_

"_Forget about family. Forget about friends. Forget about love."_

_Then the boy was on his motorcycle that he had been fixing up in the first image. He was staring up at the girl who was standing on the hill like they had been moments ago. The rain came pouring down on them, dripping of their noses and chins as they kept eye contact, knowing what the other was thinking. The girl's smile faded as the boy drove off down the winding road. The same voice rang another phrase of explanation._

"_You will be the rider for as long as you live."_

_It now showed the boy grown up, with the same features that were matured, rugged and chiseled. He sat on the bike wearing a black leather jacket and dark jeans glaring angrily at the vehicle._

"_You have no choice", the voice said._

_A new scene appeared of the man crawling on the ground of a grassy lot looking up at a block of stone with the words, '__**Barton Blaze, Loving Father**__' engraved into it. Assumingly it was the tomb of the man's once father. A white haired man with a straw hat and messy overalls peered over at him while supporting his weight on a dirty shovel. He spoke to the man in a deep southern accent. It was the same unrecognizable country tongue that had said things throughout the vision before. It seemed that he was really narrating the story all along, with his strong tone accenting every word with emphasis._

"_The rider is the Devil's bounty hunter sent to hunt down anyone that escapes from Hell."_

_Again the scene changed and the apparent main character stumbled forward with his head in his hands. Fire flickered form his biker boots as he stepped slowly and stiffly away from his motorcycle. His hands burned a red glow and smoke billowed from his amber eyes. The storyteller continued._

"_Story goes that he'll be normal during the day, but at night, in the presence of evil…"_

_The man moved his hands away from his face to show his flesh peeling away from his white skull. In only moments, the man's face was a pure milky skull and his hands were bony structures with joints. His body had too turned to bones, as his figure was now gaunt under his clothes. All bones that showed were blazing with fire of amber and gold._

"…_The rider takes over."_

_Now as a skeleton, half man, half monster, the man flew through the city streets on his flaming chopper. His own voice spoke over the scene of him zooming down the road, tearing up the flat black tar and kicking parked cars out of his way. _

"_I'm going to take this curse and turn it against you."_

_The old blonde-haired man stomped his gothic cane on the cement floor and screamed in rebellion to his comment. The noise echoed through the tall empty hall of an abandoned church. _

_Now the rider was a normal human again holding a pistol out at arm's length, only the pistol was inflamed and his hand gripping the weapon was clearly inhuman. The shadows of night surrounded the hand of the man that held the gun while light shone on the rest of his body. As he shot the flaming bullets, which were no different than anything else he touched, his voice said in a subtle, calm yet powerful declaration,_

"_I'm the only one that can walk on both worlds. I'm Ghost Rider."_

_The rider, now back to his usual monstrous form scowled at someone that was not shown in the vision. He growled in a snake-like hiss and threw a fireball with great force that bleached the whole picture in a blinding light._

Sam's eyes burst open. He gasped fro air as the pain died down. He ran a hand over his forehead to wipe away the sweat and rubbed his eyes clear of wet tears that had collected in his tear ducts. As he thought over this vision, he came to a puzzling conclusion. The vision he had just seen wasn't a premonition, but a flashback, a flashback into someone else's life. Though it wasn't just anyone's life, it was the Ghost Rider's life.

He had now witnessed a piece of what the rider had experienced. He had now had a view into the rider's life. He felt as though he understood the rider a bit better now and how truly awful it was to be what he was. He felt that him and his brother were not that different from the Devil's bounty hunter himself. They were quite similar with how they hunted and their lifestyles, how they lost loved ones and how they could never get off a job. It seemed to Sam that they too were like bounty hunters for Hell.


	5. The Interrogation

**The Interrogation**

Dean walked into the lit room. Only a table and two chairs, one already taken, sat I the center of the room. The single lamp above swayed gently wit its bulb flickering, giving it the feeling of an old detective movie. The walls were pale, almost enough to drive someone insane if they stared at them too long. The man at the table wore black jeans and a leather jacket. Silver studs were pinned to the shoulder blades and cuffs. He was very dangerous looking like his outfit. His short cut brown hair was tossed about on his squared head. His features were all very muscled and solid. You could tell he had been working out. Dean was almost frightened just looking at him, but he had seen worse before. The man looked down at his cuffed hands, begging for freedom. Dean walked to the empty chair on the other side of the table.

"So… Johnny Blaze", Dean began.

Johnny lifted his head. He rolled his eyes at Dean's smug look.

"Listen, I appreciate you getting me out of that holding cell with all those punks and criminals, but can we just get this over with soon. I'm a little tired of cops asking me the same questions over and over, especially when I can't come up with any new answers. I don't like repeating myself."

Dean smirked with a silent laugh.

"You think I'm a cop?"

"No. I'm just pretending you're a cop so that if you really are you won't beat the crap out of me for thinking otherwise."

Dean smiled quizzically at the relaxed fugitive.

"You know, I like you."

"Thanks. I would say I like you too, but I have a rule against liking people that hold me against my will."

"Fair enough. My name is Dean Winchester."

Johnny perked up, somewhat intrigued by his name. He shifted forward and rounded his shoulders, leaning his elbows on the table. He listened attentively, waiting for more. Dean could see this new interest and wondered why he was acting this way.

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm just curious. Continue."

"Why so curious?"

"Just curious", he shrugged off.

Dean was now suspicious of this mysterious character and wanted to know more about him, so he continued with his questions.

"So you're some hot shot stunt man, right?"

Johnny laid back in his chair with a deep sigh, tired of hearing about himself.

"It's not that great."

"Apparently not since you threw it all away for prison."

"I didn't throw it away. I still show for my fans. And it's not like I chose this."

"Maybe, but do you think your fans will be impressed when they see their role model behind bars?"

"You know, for a guy that claims he's not a cop, you sure act like one."

Dean snickered again and stood up from his seat to walk around.

"Yeah, I guess you could say I'm like one…. but they're my enemies. With what I do, they just keep getting in my way."

"What do you do?"

Dean turned back to the prisoner.

"Why do you care?"

"I told you, I'm curious."

"But why? Before I mentioned my name you didn't give a rat's ass that I existed!"

"Alright, so I've heard your name once or twice."

"Where?"

"Why do you care", Johnny mocked saying the same thing as Dean.

Dean sat down again to face his rivalry.

"Alright, this is enough. Look, I know you're the freaking Ghost Rider. I saw you back at that bar last night killing a guy with your pennant stare. I'm not a cop. I used a fake ID to get in, that's how we always do it, and I shouldn't be here. I'm supposed to be doing something else right now, but I had to find out a few things first. I want to know what your game is and whose side you're on, ours or his."

"Whose?"

"The Devil."

"What about him?"

Dean was getting seriously frustrated with Johnny. He wasn't giving him a single answer. Now he knew how the police felt when he was in custody and they were interrogating him. Dean slapped his hands hard on the table and leaned over to face him.

"Do you want to kill people or help them", Dean yelled.

Johnny calmly leaned farther back into his chair and turned his head away from the noise.

"Dude, I can hear you. I'm right here."

"Then answer the question!"

Johnny moved forward so that his face was right up in Dean's.

"You really want to know", he whispered.

"Yes."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Are you really, really sure?"

"Just tell me", Dean spat out in frustration.

"Okay, okay", Johnny laughed, genuinely amused with Dean's anger.

"You say you know about the Ghost Rider legend, yes?"

Dean sat back a bit, calming down as Johnny finally got talking.

"I've heard of it."

"Then you know who I work for", Johnny vaguely stated.

"But then why do you kill bad people if you work for the Devil? He's the one that wants all of us dead. He's the one that sends all of these demons and creatures out from Hell. Why would he want you to go and retrieve them after all that work?"

Johnny gave Dean a serious look.

"There's a lot you don't know about the Devil… and surprisingly a lot you do know about this subject. How do you know about demons?"

Dean decided to be more up front with Johnny, but not too much, yet.

"Well, let's just say me and weird go together like Brad and Angelina."

Johnny chuckled under his breath.

"You're funny. I'll give you that. Now why would you want to know about the Rider? It can't be just some freak hobby of yours. You got to have some reason to go through all this trouble. I mean, you say you're not a cop but you do similar work; you aren't the average Joe but you aren't a psycho; and on top of it all you have knowledge of the weird. Tell me, what do you do?"

Dean began to rise from his seat, needing to stretch his legs.

"I guess I'd better tell you, then. Me and my brother, Sam… we hunt… demons."

Johnny frowned as if trying to grasp this concept Dean was speaking of. He almost didn't believe him.

"Demons, huh?"

"Yeah. And other things."

Johnny shook and lowered his head.

"No wonder," he said just loud enough for Dean to notice him speaking.

Dean gave him a stern stare.

"What did you say?"

"I said 'no wonder'," he repeated as he lifted his head to see the other man across the table.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh nothing. It's just this demon I fought a while back mentioned you."

Dean was now interested. He calmly but anxiously sat back in his chair, eager to hear Johnny's reply.

"How long back?"

Johnny curled his lip and shrugged.

"A few months ago, almost a year."

"What did it say", Dean demanded.

Johnny shrugged casually.

"I don't know. Something about getting you back for what you did a long time ago."

Dean froze. He knew exactly what Johnny was talking about even if Johnny himself didn't.

"Did it mention anything else?"

"No, not really."

Dean ran a hand down his rough facial features. He stood up and walked to the far wall, his back turned to Johnny.

"I hope you know that this demon isn't going to rest until you're dead. Once you've done something to offend them, whatever it may be, you're marked for life."

Dean stood motionless, thinking of what to do with himself next. He fingered his necklace that hung from his strong neck over his plain black t-shirt. It was a little rusty, but smooth from being handled over the years. That necklace along with the Impala, were his single most prized possessions, given to him by his father. Because it was so special to him he never took it off, therefore it was overly worn. The silver pendant on the end of the woven thread chain resembled an Indian man's face with an interestingly shaped headdress or traditional hat with pieces at the sides that looked like horns. The details were rounded and not as prominent as they would have been many years ago. It was hard to make out its shape at all.

He twiddled it in his fingers. Light reflected off its smooth surface from the small lamp in the room's center.

"Yeah. I know."

Dean lifted his head and spun around looking at the ceiling.

"What are you doing?"

Finally Dean's eyes met what he was searching for. A security camera rested in the top corner above the door. He stared into the camera lens with a hardy smile and walked closer to it. When he reached his target he made a fist and punched it out. The annoying, beeping red light stopped flashing and the glass of the lens shattered. He shook out his hand vigorously to numb the pain.

"What on earth…", Johnny started.

"I'm getting you out of here", Dean responded turning back to his now partner.

Johnny closed his eyes and sighed with relief.

"Oh finally!"

"But you're not leaving to do what you want."

"What?"

Before Dean could answer, the door opened. A security guard came running into the room. Dean, standing behind the door slammed it in his face. The heavy, solid slab smacked the man square in the forehead. He instantly dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes, unconscious. Dean bent down and snagged the ring of keys from his utility belt. Walking back to the handcuffed fugitive, Dean continued explaining.

"You're coming with me."

* * *

_DemonDragon666- Again, like always I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while. I had every intention to for a few months, or however long I left you for, but I had many things happening, and being in high school, exams. So please review and I swear I won't take this long again... well... I'll try. _


	6. The Escape

Chapter 6

The Escape

Dean searched the officer's key ring that he had stolen for the right one to unlock Johnny's handcuffs. He felt under pressure, rushed, knowing that there could potentially be more police on their way to the room.

"What? Why do I have to come with you?" Johnny asked while looking around at Dean to see what he was up to.

Dean finally found a key that seemed similar to the design of the handcuffs and stuck it in the metal hole. The key fit like a glove. He gave the key a simple twist and they snapped off without hesitation.

"Because I need your help tracking and killing that demon. And if this is the demon I'm thinking of, then we've got a lot of work to do that I can't do alone."

Johnny rubbed his free wrists clear of the sweat that had formed from the tightness of the metal bracelets.

"Can't your brother help you?"

"No. It's still too much for the both of us. I'm wondering if it will be too much for the three of us."

"Not a chance", Johnny bragged. "But tell me this: why should I help you?"

"I have my ways of persuasion. And besides, you might enjoy wasting the son of a bitch."

"Hey, that's my line", Johnny claimed.

"Sorry, but I already bought the rights to that line. I also bet that I use it more times in a day than you have in your entire life", Dean tested.

"I guess I owe you big bucks then, don't I."

"You can pay me later" Dean joked. "Right now we've got to get out of here, fast."

"And what do you propose we do, captain?"

Dean gave the non-stop comedian a deathly serious glare.

"You're just too funny, aren't you?"

"I try."

Dean rolled his eyes and began out the door. The hallway ran both ways out of the room and neither of them could remember which way they had come in. He looked at Johnny.

"Right or left", he asked.

"So now I'm in charge?"

"Do you want to make a decision or not?"

"Not really, because then I can say it was all your fault when you land both of us right back here in jail."

Dean nodded with a little laugh at Johnny's game.

"Thanks."

Dean had now decided their path, whether it was correct or not, he was going to take it. He directed Johnny to the left hallway. The two began to sprint in the direction they were heading. Then a voice called out behind them.

"Hey! Come back here!"

They peered over their shoulders to see at least a dozen officers in navy blue uniforms armed with handguns heading their direction.

"Holy…"

They sped up and turned the corner, sliding under the freshly waxed corridor floors. Around the bend was a longer hall with metal bars for walls. Behind the bars were criminals with deathly stares, eyeing the two as they ran down the hall of shame. Johnny slowed to a halt, his head in his hands. Dean turned to see his partner in crime seeming as if giving up. The men in the prison cells booed and hissed, laughed and jeered at this so called tough guy thinking he could escape.

"Johnny, come on! The cops will catch up to us any second. We've got to get out of here!"

Johnny scrunched up his eyes and moved his hands to the top of his head, clenching tufts of his messy brown hair.

"No. You go on without me. I'll catch up…. argh!"

"Johnny, what's wrong", Dean asked with concern.

"The rider… it's taking over. The evil… all around me… I can feel it."

Dean didn't know what to say to him. He didn't know what to do for him. The only thought on his mind was that the cops would catch up and they would both be thrown in the cell. Johnny's hands began to glow bright red and he belted out insane laughter, from what, Dean could not say. His closed eyes billowed clouds of smoke from beneath his eyelids. The exposed flesh peeled away from his bone. The police officers had now reached the end of the hallway, but stopped their pursuit when Johnny's transformation came into view. They all wore looks of shock and awe, even Dean. The laughter continued, drowning out all of the comments and noises of the prisoners.

Slowly Johnny retracted his bony fingers and clenched them into fists. Flames burst out of the top of his skull and blazed brightly, showing its warm colours of glory. Johnny's already deep voice became deeper in a hissed cackle like that of an amused snake. He inhaled crisp, stinging cold air, that to everyone else was normal temperature, as he settled into his new form.

"You're pissing me off!" hissed the skeleton man in his deep, gravely voice.

The officers trembled with fear just at his appearance. The Ghost Rider took one powerful stride forward, making the officers jump as their lives flashed before them. Two officers from the rear of the group fled from the scene. The monster continued to march toward the frightened men - more of them retreating - and some now having the courage to fight back. They fired their supposed weapons of force and authority at the gaunt creature as Dean sprung out of the bullets' way. Johnny took the silver pellets with a jolt backwards.

His eyes frowned.

They seemed to have no impact on him at all. He roared loudly as he raised his thin arms. A crack immediately formed in the floors, splitting the sides of the room in which prisoners stood, gaping at the power of the invisible force that was separating the room. Fire shot up from the canyon growing larger in the center of the room and trailed its way to where the officers were now running back through the hall in which they came - Johnny standing at the foot of the progressing damage with a laugh presented on his face.

Dean and the prisoners propped themselves up against the walls; steadying their balance as the ground quaked once more, teetering them from side to side. Johnny released a growl as he turned toward the remaining evil. The cell captives shouted in sheer terror at the devil creature's haunting stare. Dean knew instantly what he was preparing to do. The rider stepped toward the metal cages boxing in the criminals that shook as much if not more than the ground had moments ago. Before he reached them Dean grabbed him by the arm to catch his attention.

"Johnny, don't. They may have done bad things before, but they aren't hurting anyone now. Just leave them. Come on. We need to get out of here."

The skeleton sneered at the men behind Dean and protested,

"Their souls are stained by the blood of the innocent. They must feel their pain!"

"No! There's time for that later, but now our lives are at stake. Let them live a little longer. Give them time to set things right. I mean, think of what we've done. Are we really all that different?"

Johnny snarled again and turned harshly, brushing off Dean. The two began for the door, but before Johnny disappeared behind the wall leaving the criminals in relief he shot them a warning glance and hissed,

"Your souls are no longer safe! Be warned: The Ghost Rider comes for you!"

Finally they exited the building with Johnny's last words echoing through the heads of the remaining. No one even dared to approach the two while the rider was still in flames, making their escape easier than planned. Parked right out in front of the station was Dean's dirty black Impala. He pulled out his car keys and rushed over to the driver's side, yanking open the rusty door.

"You coming?" he called back to Johnny who stood at the curb looking out at the empty road.

"Not without my bike" he hissed back.

He brought his milky white bony thumb and forefinger to his bared teeth and made a loud whistle through them. A bright light flew down the dark alleyway and swerved to a halt by the Impala. The light turned out to be his motorcycle that, like him, was engulfed in flames. It seemed to be midnight black with hints of silvery metal. A fairly well put-together bike made even cooler – or – hotter with the burning flames as if the paintjob had sprung to life. Other extra features were added such as the chains that wrapped around thin bars and rods as well as the handle bars that were similar to the one decorating the rider's jacket, and bony finger-like straws that clung to the fuel tank.

"Nice bike", Dean murmured.

Johnny set himself on the Hell Cycle and flicked the handles revving up the engine. Dean got in the Impala and started up his own engine. The rider glanced back at Dean, waiting for his queue. As soon as Dean looked back Johnny shouted,

"Let's ride!"

They sped down the city streets pushing traffic out of their way in fear of the hot flames that trailed behind.


	7. Dean's Story

**Dean's Story**

Sam held the remote out at arms length. He sat on the edge of the comfy hotel mattress flipping through the channels of the large charcoal television. Finally he came to something that interested him. The morning news caught his attention. There was a building ablaze with fire and tire tracks in the center of the road that had torn up the asphalt. It looked like a razor had split through the streets and continued right down out of the city, turning where needed until it met its destination. Next to it was a pair of typical tire tracks. Most likely from a car that was riding along side the vehicle that created the damage.

Sam wondered what could possibly make those indents in the road forcing the tar to billow out like that. He watched and listened attentively to the story being told by the news anchor that he hoped would explain everything.

"_Last night, after the arrest of the famous fugitive and beloved motorcycle stunt man, Johnny Blaze, an explosion occurred in the heart of the Chicago police station. Officers on duty say that it was the work of Blaze that escaped with the help of an unknown __accomplice__ claiming to be a private investigator. Officials now say his ID was later discovered to be a fake. _

"_Also, on a more intriguing note, something that witnesses are trying to avoid was how exactly they managed to escape without police following them. They appeared to be frightened by Johnny Blaze. They say that what he looked like was not of the norm. Here is Thomas Determan to explain."_

The anchorwoman labeled 'Charlotte Johansen' with short red hair and chunky, stylish glasses nodded to the camera. The feed then cut to a hefty man in a trench coat with a microphone on the scene. Police officers in the background rushed around trying to hold off the crowd from the crime scene as investigators did their work.

"_Thank you, Charlotte. An interesting turn of events for the world-renowned record holder, Johnny Blaze: stunt spectacular. After interviewing various witnesses of his escape, we have come across a description of Johnny that both officers and felons in the present cells have tried to deny since press arrived at the scene._

"_They say that he had a breakdown, whether mentally or physically in the main hall before arriving at the front door. While his accomplice encouraged him to move on Johnny had a change, though not in the way you would imagine. According to witnesses his flesh instantly peeled off of his bone and caught fire. Though this is quite impossible, witnesses are very sure that what they saw was a monstrous creature in the form of a skeleton in biker boots and a leather jacket._

"_They say that it was Johnny that caused the fire and the splitting of the floor. Officials suggest hallucinatory gas to be the real weapon, though no evidence of this has been found. The real question now is not how he escaped, but where is he now. The trail has been followed out of the city, but vanished at the graveyard a few miles south. Whether this is where he stopped for the night is still being investigated. But one thing is for certain: Last night's breakout was surely the great escape."_

On the screen they showed a picture of Johnny Blaze. Sam perked up, recognizing the unmistakable face of the man he had seen in his flashback the night before. His face was lean and stern, his eyes green pools of poisoned darkness. In the pit of his stomach Sam seemed to feel a sudden hatred toward the one he knew to be the Ghost Rider. Even after the vision he had that made him feel connected to Johnny with the amount of similarities they had, Sam still couldn't help but want to send him back to hell where he belonged after killing people, of all things. It didn't seem right to him. He and his brother killed only what needed to be killed – what wasn't truly nature or living.

Before he could see the accomplice that had helped Johnny, the door burst open revealing Dean on the other side. Sam rose from the bed to greet his brother.

"Dean, where the hell were you?"

Dean's gaze drifted from Sam to the T.V and back again. His eyes wandered around the room looking for something, and then finally met back to Sam's.

"I was… uh… out."

"Out? All night?"

"Yeah."

"Well did you find the demon?" Sam asked in an exasperated tone.

"I, uh… took care of it", he stated vaguely.

Sam ignored his awkward behavior and got right down to business.

"Whatever. Listen, have you seen the news? This guy…" Again they showed the picture of Johnny Blaze on the screen. Sam pointed to it with a look of discovery. Dean glanced over his shoulder to see it and swiftly turned back once he saw the pale face of the man he had rescued moments ago from jail. "…He escaped jail last night leaving the place on fire. Look at him, Dean! It's Johnny Blaze! It's the Ghost Rider! I'm completely sure! I had a vision last night, well, more of a flashback, really. It was like nothing I've ever had before. I saw everything that happened up until the point that he became the Ghost Rider. And this is him, Dean!"

He pointed again at the screen, but the picture was now gone. Dean seemed uncomfortable with the topic. He fidgeted under Sam's watchful eye and kept looking back toward the door trying to act inconspicuous.

"Yeah? Well, what exactly am I supposed to do with this newly uncovered information?" Dean asked harshly.

Sam frowned.

"Dean, what's wrong?"

"Nothing", he protested.

Sam continued.

"Well, I've been thinking and you were right. We shouldn't put too much faith in this guy. I don't trust him. He kills people for a living, Dean."

"Yeah, but we're not that much different, Sam. Haven't you seen our lifestyle? We travel from place to place, have no real home; like the Rider. We do whatever we can to kill, hunt, destroy…"

"But we're not vicious!"

"Yeah, and maybe he isn't either!"

Sam gave Dean a stern look, trying to get him to understand.

"You have no idea what he's like. I've just pretty much seen into his mind. He may have become the Rider for a good reason and intended for great things to happen, but with the Devil controlling him he has to kill whatever he's told to."

"Well, actually, he doesn't have any control over me anymore", a voice said behind Dean.

They both turned to see a tall, slender man with shaggy brunette tufts of hair spurting out all over his head like a worn out ratty mop. He had piercing green eyes and solid features. A black leather jacket was wrapped around his shoulders and muscular arms. He wore ripped jeans and scuffed biker boots like Dean. Sam gaped at the figure before them. Then he shook his head in argument.

"Dean, you didn't." He looked at Dean with anger in his eyes. "You helped him escape? Dean, you complete idiot! If you give away our position the FBI will be on our trail like last time!"

Dean rolled his eyes. Johnny strolled over to a broad armchair in the corner of the room and sat himself in it comfortably with his feet up on the small coffee table in front of it like a footrest.

"Hey, you must be Sam, Dean's younger brother." Sam shot Johnny an aggravated glare to give him the message that he wasn't wanted there. Unfortunately he didn't seem to pick up on the hint. "Heard lots about you. It's good to finally meet you."

Sam took a step toward him with the same irritated expression.

"So you've heard about me, have you? What exactly have you heard? That I'm a freak? That I can see into the future? That I see death before it happens? That I lost my whole family and my girlfriend to creatures like you? That I have a problem with people killing other people? That I believe anything that helps the Devil should be sent back to Hell where they belong? Did he tell you any of that? Huh?"

Dean stepped in, grabbing Sam by the shoulder. He gave Johnny a silent apology.

"Sam, calm down. He's not like that, okay."

"Then what is he like, Dean? You seem to know so much about him. You tell me that he hasn't killed for the Devil. You tell me that he hasn't killed people he thinks is deserving of Hell; of life worse than death."

Johnny stood from his seat giving Sam a frown, narrowing his deep green eyes.

"I'll tell you. Yeah, I worked for the Devil, but those people that I went after escaped from Hell. I went after demons and stuff just like you. And I'll tell you another thing. He was the one that chose those people. I had nothing to do with it."

"But you still killed them, didn't you?"

"I didn't have a choice-"

"You always have a choice!"

Johnny stepped closer, his face next to Sam's, his eyes staring deeply into his.

"You think you know what it's like to be the rider? Just because of some vision you think you know everything about me? All right then, tell me: why did I make the deal?"

Both Johnny and Dean stared at Sam waiting for an answer; their eyes locked onto his. He dropped his gaze to avoid them. His voice lowered to a whisper.

"For your dad. You wanted to save him."

"Damn right. And what did that get me?"

Sam again spoke in a whisper.

"Nothing."

"Yeah. Nothing. My dad died. Not by the thing that I sold my soul to protect him from, but through other causes. I left my girlfriend because I was so upset, and later she couldn't forgive me. Oh, and once she did, I managed to get her killed too. I have no home, no job – no real job, that is. My fans barely recognize me and if they do they try their best to avoid me. They think I'm some kind of disease and if they come near me they'll turn into a low life like me. Now tell me, what kind of a life is that?"

Sam was quiet for a moment. "Not a very good one."

"Yeah. So, how the hell does this work? I come here to help you save the world and all you do is bitch at me? Come on. I need a bit more respect than that."

Sam instantly jerked his head toward Dean, wide-eyed with curiosity and disbelief. "Save the world? From what?"

Dean cringed and cold-shouldered Sam as he tried to escape interrogation himself.

"Dean? What do you know that I don't?"

Dean gave a pitiful laugh. "How much time have you got?"

Sam stared coldly at his brother. Johnny was confused. "You haven't told him?"

"If you remember right I haven't told you the whole story either", Dean reminded Johnny.

"Well that's more than I got. Dean… now would be a really great time to tell us."

Dean sighed. "We're dealing with a demon, Sam."

"Yeah. I figured that much. So? Big deal."

"Actually, it is a big deal. This isn't any ordinary demon. This one's a nasty son of a bitch. I'd even dare to say that it's in the same rank as yellow eyes."

Sam went still and held his breath. "What?"

"Maybe higher."

"How do you know?"

Dean locked stares with Sam. "Because I've faced it before."

Sam shook his head, trying to understand. "When?"

"A few years ago. When dad and I still hunted together."

Johnny and Sam said nothing and made no attempt to move. That was dean's queue to tell them the entirety of it. He gave the two a sour look and took a seat on the coffee table Johnny had previously rested his feet on. The other two sat themselves in armchairs seated around the table. Dean took a deep sigh and began the tale. "Dad and I were alone, seeing as you…" he directed his comment at Sam "… were off at college. He caught wind of a hunt in California. A demon. We decided it would be best to take it together, 'cause you can never be too sure with demons. We didn't have much, just an exorcism ritual, some holy water, and a 45' each. You know, the typical demon hunting gear.

"Anyway, we had finally caught up to it, chased it for months, following each death one at a time. The damn thing had no pattern, or none that we could see. The deaths were strange, though. Neither dad nor I had ever seen anything like it. We even called Bobby and he hadn't either. So when we finally caught it, it was pure luck. But the damn thing had minions. Ten or so demons, from what we could tell. Had to set the biggest Devil's Trap I'd ever seen; and little ones all over town just in case. We didn't get all of them though, but we did get the one that mattered. Took more than the trap to hold him. We had to call some other local hunters at one point for more man power. Luckily we got him just long enough to send him back to Hell. But the last thing he said was he'd be back, and he'd be back for me. See, I was the one that read the exorcism. Dad threatened him and wished him an eternity in the pit, but we knew it'd be back at some point. It had a plan, and it wasn't gonna give up on it anytime soon; that much was for sure. Looks like it's finally back."

Sam and Johnny took a moment to let the story sink in. Johnny was the first to speak.

"Any idea what its name was?"

"They have names?" Dean questioned.

"Sure they do. Everything has a name. Even this yellow-eyed thing you mentioned. And if we know its name, I bet we can find out its weaknesses and how to kill it. For good."

_DemonDragon666: Hey, guys. Sorry its been, what, 4 years? Wow that's long. But hey, I had stuff to do, what can I say. Anyway, after all the comments begging me to continue (and thanks for that, I really appreciate the love), I decided it was time to continue. Luckily I had some stuff already written that I just never submitted, so here it is. And this time I will do whatever I can to get the chapters out faster. I have a long and boring summer ahead of me, so hopefully that'll be a good drive for me. And sorry for the crappy grammar and spelling job on the previous chapters. Reading it back again I realize I really need to use spell check and reread things (always been my downfall). Also, keep in mind I started writing these around the time of Supernatural's first and second seasons, so I'm gonna keep Sam and Dean's knowledge to around that time for continuity. As always please review and enjoy!:)_


	8. The Name Game

**Chapter 8**

**The Name Game**

The three sat about the motel room with stacks of dusty books piled high like mountains around them.

Dean sighed in frustrated exhaustion. "So you don't remember the demon's name at all?"

"It started with an M, I think," Johnny replied with his head immersed in a book.

"This is gonna take forever," Dean complained.

Johnny turned to Dean. "Well, look, Mr. Demons-don't-have-names, if you had maybe paid a bit more attention you would know the name of the demon and we wouldn't be relying on me right now. So since I'm the only one that knows how to do my job; shut up and keep reading." With that, Johnny returned to his reading.

Dean slammed his book shut and swivelled in his chair to face Johnny head on. "Excuse me, bone head, but I'm not the one with an empty skull here."

Johnny raised his head with a small laugh under his breath. "Oh, well I'm not the one that attacks demons with scary words and church water."

"At least it does the job. What the hell do you do? Throw fire at them? I'm sure they hate that."

"Yeah, they do. And I'm sure they hate those wimpy bullets you shoot at them too. Please. For someone who's been doing this their whole life you sure are an amateur."

"I'm the amateur? You've been the Ghost Rider for, what, a couple years? And suddenly you know everything."

"Yes, sir. I'm a quick learner. Pretty astonishing for a bone head like me, isn't it?"

Dean prepared to make another retort when Sam interrupted by clearing off the center of the table to make way for his book, opened on a selected page, to show the others.

"Guys, I think I found something." Sam proceeded to read a paragraph out loud, following along with his finger so the others knew where he was in the text. "'Malphas, to some authors, is the great president of Hell, said to have forty legions of demons under his command. Can manipulate or conjure enemies' thoughts and desires-'"

"Sam, that all sounds great, but what makes you think this is the demon we're looking for?" Dean questioned, slightly bored with his brother's findings.

"You didn't let me get to that part."

"Then get to it," Johnny demanded.

Sam took a frustrated breath and continued. "When you each described your accounts I factored in the similarities and kept an eye out for that. Demons have personalities like any of us, so the similarities in their chosen forms might lead to learning that. Anyway, you both said it was possessing a male human, wore black and blue, and had a hoarse voice. Now, if you'll allow me to continue reading…" He shot Dean a warning glance and turned his eyes back to the paragraph where he left off. "'Is often depicted as a crow when not in human form, and speaks in a hoarse voice.' Get it? Black and blue are his ties to his animal counterpart, the crow. And he speaks in a hoarse voice. Now I don't know if he chooses humans for their voice or he creates that himself. I don't understand all of the workings of demons, but come on. That can't be a coincidence."

"Malphas… could be it," Johnny mused.

"You mean you still don't remember?" Dean accused.

"It was a long time ago. I sometimes have trouble remembering last week."

Dean rolled his eyes. "So let's pretend this is our guy. Does it say how to kill it?"

Sam scanned through the text and flipped back and forth through a few pages. He shook his head. "No. There really isn't much about him. Just some stories of what he's done."

Dean stood up and walked away from the table to clear his head. "So what are we gonna do now? Face it like any other demon? No way. Dad and I couldn't handle it; Ghost Face over here couldn't handle it…"

"Hey. It wasn't that I couldn't handle it. He just… got away," Johnny said, stepping in to defend himself.

Sam took a step toward his brother. "Dean, we'll be fine. We always are. The two of us, and Johnny, we can do this."

Dean nodded in agreement. "Well, first things first. We gotta find the bastard."

Just then there was a knock on the door. The room fell silent and its inhabitants grew tense. Dean reached for the 45' under his shirt and approached the door with caution. He peered through the peephole in the door. On the other side he saw a tall woman, curvaceous in all the right places, with long, wavy red hair. She donned a maid's uniform and a utility cart was parked behind her.

Dean turned to the others and tucked the 45' back in his jeans. "It's just room service."

Sam and Johnny relaxed a little, but kept their eyes on the scene anyway.

Dean opened the door. "Well, hi there," he began, switching on his Winchester charm.

The girl smiled. "Hello, sir. Do you require room service today?"

He looked the girl up and down, and came back with an impish remark. "Oh, boy, do I. But, uh, not at the moment… unfortunately… Could you come back later?"

The girl approached Dean with sultry eyes. "Are you sure? I provide excellent service."

Dean let a lustful sigh escape his lips as his eyes locked onto hers. "I bet you do."

She had him mesmerized like a black widow reeling in her prey. She brought a soft hand to his cheek. Upon contact, every vein in his body turned black and he collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.

Sam and Johnny rushed to the door. They tried to fight her off, but with a single touch the girl had them on the floor with black veins and hungry lungs.

She stood tall with the three hunters immobilized at her feet. She flipped her fiery hair over her shoulder and smiled a dangerous grin.

She blinked and her eyes were black as night.


	9. Meetings

**Chapter 9**

**Meetings**

Dean opened his eyes as if just waking from a long nap. He went to stretch, but realized he couldn't. Rope bound his wrists behind his back and around a metal support beam. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to loosen the knots. He looked to his left and saw Sam beginning to stir. He was tied up as Dean was. To his right he saw Johnny, already awake and staring furiously into the darkness ahead. He was bound with metal chains. Dean followed Johnny's gaze and absorbed the scene.

The beautiful maid that had poisoned them all back at the motel now stood before them, dressed in a sleek black dress to show off her curves. A large snake wrapped itself around her limbs as if she was a tree, but the reptile didn't faze her. At her side were three men of equally iniquitous dispositions. One was young, possibly early twenties, with a punk style in frayed denim. He twiddled a knife in his hand like a gymnast's baton. Another man was at the opposite end of the age spectrum where he could've been mistaken for being a corpse with his sunken, bonelike features and grey skin. His hair was mangy and greasy, and hung off his scalp like his tattered clothes did his body; almost ready to fall off. The last man was middle aged, but youthful, and had a classy look about him, dressed in an all-white business suit. His platinum blond hair was spiked up with gel, hiding two carefully concealed silver horns. He wore sunglasses to hide his eyes, making his face bare a marble expression to match his stone cold stance. The four lounged about a display of wooden crates, revealing the location to be some sort of warehouse, while the dim light above them created a mystery beyond the little circle they all resided in.

From out of the enigmatic darkness emerged a robust man, almost Herculean in build, with ponytailed black hair and clothing to match, and an evil grin so filled with pleasure it could make the Devil himself fear for his life.

"Evening, boys. Glad to finally see you again after all these years," the man said in a hoarse voice.

None of them said a word. Johnny continued to eye the man with a vengeful stare; occasionally shaking his head in attempt to calm himself while the rest of him emanated thick smoke.

The man laughed. "Okay, Johnny, I know the drill. I know we don't have long before the Rider takes over, so I'll be brief. I just wanted to have a pleasant little chat before things get… well… not too pleasant."

"And you call this pleasant?" Dean snapped, tugging at the ropes that bound him.

"Well you're hunters. You shoot first, ask questions later. I wanted to try and reverse that, if at all possible." The man walked around the room with casual ease to his steps and a charming smile as he spoke. "I thought we could reminisce about old times. You know. Like when you sent me to Hell," he said, directing the last line to Dean. "Or like when you killed all my friends," he said to Johnny.

Then he walked over to Sam. "And you. I don't believe we've met, but I hear you're quite the little psychic. The name is Malphas, if you haven't already caught on."

Sam didn't respond, but glared at him with watchful eyes.

Malphas smirked in delight. Then, suddenly, he stepped back from the tied up guests with a look of bewilderment. "Oh, forgive me. What kind of host am I? Here I am babbling on about how we all know each other when here you are not having been introduced to my new friends. Please, allow me."

He grazed a hand across the shoulder of the black widow that had poisoned them. "I believe you have already met Lilith." She gave them each a sultry glance, and then shot one to Malphas, who put his arm around her waist in return.

He then gestured to the men around her. "The feisty young fellow with the knife is Shezma." After being named, the punk kid winked and smirked as he caressed the blade in a threatening manner.

"The madman in the corner would be my pal Murmur." The skeleton man didn't make any motion to acknowledge his mention. He perhaps looked sicklier in the time they had been talking. Flies had also begun to circle around him.

Malphas abandoned Lilith's side and strolled over to the man in white. He placed a sturdy hand on his shoulder. "And this is my right hand man Osiris." The man in white remained emotionless and statuesque.

Malphas strode toward his guests. He clapped his hands together to finalize his speech. "So, now that we've all been introduced and we're all caught up to speed on why we're here I suppose it's time to look to the future."

Dean looked over to Sam and saw that he had a pocketknife in his hand and had begun sawing at the rope. He quickly turned back to Malphas. "There isn't going to be a future for you, 'cause we're sending you back to Hell," Dean threatened.

Malphas laughed. "Is that so? Well I suppose if I were in your shoes I'd think the same. I mean you did it once before. Why would you think you couldn't do it again? And of course there is the fact that you have the Ghost Rider on your side, so you must be feeling incredibly powerful right now."

Johnny's shakes became more violent and the chains began to glow with heat.

"So then is there a reason you're not begging for mercy or running for your life?" Dean continued.

"You're outnumbered, kid. You don't have a shot in Hell."

"Five to three? Please. I've beaten worse odds before."

"Oh, not just in physical numbers. Skills too. I chose my team wisely this time. I made the mistake before of thinking just pure numbers could do the trick. But you helped me see that I needed more than that. So now I'm back, and I'm stronger than ever. And the four you see behind me… they've been out of Hell a lot longer than I. They know how to play the game. And they're not that anxious to go back either."

Sam stood up and shrugged off the rope, then slid the pocketknife to Dean. "Johnny, now!"

Johnny burst out of his chains, now in full Rider form. "Time to go ba-ack," he taunted in a sing-song manner. He picked up the chain and cracked it like a whip, igniting it with flames.

Sam jumped out to the side and found a few barrels of gasoline he had been eying earlier. He took one and dumped it near the crates the demons were sitting on.

Dean shook off the now severed ropes and lunged at Malphas with his knife. Malphas blocked the blow and punched Dean in the stomach, sending him flying back into the darkness and crashing into a stack of crates.

Johnny whipped the flaming rope of chains toward the gasoline spill to ignite it. Before it landed, a well manicured hand grabbed the chains and picked it up. Lilith held the chains, withstanding the heat of the flames. She gave the Rider a triumphant smile and tugged on the chains. The flames diminished and green, smoky venom trailed its way up the metal line from her hand to the Rider's. He dropped it immediately as if it had scalded him. He gave out an angry roar and walked toward her. He raised a fiery skeleton hand, but Lilith, clearly prepared for the attack, spun around him and grabbed his skull from behind with both hands. Her green venom took place of his Hell fire. The Rider shrieked in agony and fell to his knees.

Sam knocked over another barrel of gas. He began toward the last barrel when Osiris appeared behind him and smashed Sam's head into the barrel with a single motion. Sam crumpled to the floor, but remained conscious. He tried to bring himself to his feet, but Osiris helped him up first, hauling him up by his jacket collar. Sam drowsily stared up at Osiris' statuesque face, awaiting the next hit.

Just then, a great force plunged Osiris to the floor, knocking Sam back into the barrel that he clung to for support. Dean stood above Osiris and shook out his right hand to loosen it up. He turned to his brother and said, "You okay, Sammy?"

Sam weakly nodded and Dean helped him up. Sam pushed over the last barrel of gasoline as Dean spotted a door in the distance. They started toward it with haste.

The Rider, still under the toxic spell of Lilith's poisonous fingertips looked toward the gas spill. He extended a boney hand toward it. Lilith saw this and put more force into her hold. The Rider wailed once more and reached further. The venom began to spread through his body, and slowly crawled down his arms, threatening to overtake the last bit of fire in his fingers.

His reach extended further and further as the venom spread further and further, until…

The Rider released a scream in anger; his rage now fueling his fire, giving him the strength he needed to overcome the venom momentarily to press his hand into the liquid and ignite the gasoline.

Sam and Dean reached the road as the warehouse exploded. They ducked and shielded themselves from the flying debris. As the smoke began to clear, they looked back into the destruction, their eyes searching wildly for any sign of Johnny.

In the heart of the wreckage was a fire in the shape of a man. The Rider strode up the grassy hill to the roadside where the Winchesters stood. Though his clothing was badly tattered, not a mark remained of the explosion or Lilith's venom. His fire blazed on, healthy as ever. He put two boney fingers to his teeth and whistled. From down the barren highway a flaming motorcycle sped toward them, stopping just before the Rider's feet. He gestured to Sam and Dean to get onto the bike.

Dean shook his head and laughed, "As cool as that looks, there is no way I'm getting on that."

The Rider sighed and walked off toward a car now approaching them. The car came to a halt and the driver rushed out toward Sam and Dean, looking between them and the wreckage. "Hey, are you guys alright- Holy shit!" The driver saw the Rider and fell backward to the gravel in fear.

The Rider pointed to the car and looked at Dean. "Better?"

Dean shrugged. "I guess." Sam and Dean got into the car, stepping over its previous owner who was immobile with fright.

The Rider straddled the bike and turned back to the Winchesters. "Follow me," he hissed.

As they rode off down the highway, the man they had left stranded slowly rose to his feet. He dusted off his pants and reached into his pocket for his cell phone. A pair of strong hands behind him gripped his head and snapped his neck. The man fell limply to the ground.

Malphas picked up the phone and passed it to Osiris at his side, the others all standing around him. Together they watched as the two vehicles disappeared into the horizon.

_DemonDragon666: Sorry it's been so long again, guys. I had to make sure I had a good comeback, so I hope you enjoyed it. In case you were wondering, you huge Supernatural fans, my version of Lilith and all these new demons were created long before Supernatural introduced a Lilith or Lucifer (who happened to have the same all white look as Osiris at one point if you remember). But I just want you to know I did it first! I just never got it out in time, but the idea was always there so no one thinks I'm cheating. But I did take a whole new spin on the character, I did my research into demonology of every religion, so I hope you find these new characters interesting. I love writing them so hopefully you like reading them. As always, let me know your thoughts and I'll see you next chapter!:)_


End file.
